


Mercs at a Strip Club

by JesterMonkey



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Suggestive Themes, strip club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5539739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesterMonkey/pseuds/JesterMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your favourite fighters (well, not Pyro...He would have had a bad time anyways.) decide to spend a little time at a strip club. Honestly, it could only go one way from here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mercs at a Strip Club

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stuck at home playing a lot of TF2 and I also recently read an amazing* fanfiction where the TF2 classes are strippers but I figured it'd be better (but not as hilarious) if they went to a strip club themselves.
> 
> I just wanted to write something that was fun.
> 
> *- Fanfiction was actually pretty bad but it made me laugh and cringe like no other sort-of porn ever has.

The neon light flickered in the dark of a late Saturday night. Nine men of varying heights, interests and classes stood in front of the door completely in awe of the dancing, pink outline. Three of the men seemed ecstatic to be there; the Scotsman, the mechanic and the young man. While the others appeared either unenthused or interested in other things; like the Frenchman in the suit, holding a magazine in hand.  
“What are we waiting for?!” Scout screamed preparing to charge through the doors.  
The Engineer reached his gloved hand out and grabbed the Scout’s shoulder. “Woah there, partner. We have to make sure we have the right amount of…funds for such an occasion.”  
They all looked to the Spy who rolled his eyes at them. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Combined, we have over ten thousand dollars. Now gentlemen, are we all going in?”  
“Mmrpph mmrphh mrph!” The pyro mumbled, waving his hands wildly.  
The others stared at him with blank expressions. The pyro sighed and motioned a steering wheel to them, the others “ahhed” and nodded to one another.  
“Ahh..Thank you, looks like we have our designated driver.” The Spy said smiling to himself. “Anyone else?”  
The Soldier raised his hand. “Question. Do I have to dance?”  
Everyone stared at him with wide eyes. The Engineer stepped forward.  
“You can dance all you like my friend. Just make sure we’re not watching. Also, keep your clothes on.” He said, wrapping an arm around Soldier’s shoulder and chuckling.  
The Medic crossed his arms. “Do you remember the last time you said something like that?”  
“No?” The Engineer replied, frowning.  
“He teleported bread.” The Medic hissed.  
The Engineer nodded to himself. He looked to the Soldier with a glare. “Don’t you dare dance! Ya hearin’ me? Don’t. You. Dare.”  
With that they entered the building (Pyro sighed and hopped into the car, sitting in perfect silence).  
The music was loud and disjointed, almost like a drum machine was performing sexual acts with a broken bass and drunken rapper. The atmosphere was thick with smog and sin, and every eye in the club looked to them in wide-eyed horror. The men crowded around the stage, turned ghostly pale as they began to charge past the mercenaries and out the door.  
A woman at the bar screamed. “Hey! Now all of our customers are gone!”  
The Spy put out his cigarette and looked to the barmaid. “Combined, we have (roughly) ten thousand dollars in our pockets right as of now. Now tell me, are we able to stay or would you rather close for the night.”  
The barmaid’s look of anguish and despair vanished into thin air and it was replaced with a plastic smile. “Welcome to our club, you wealthy, wealthy studs!”  
The Spy grinned, lighting yet another cigarette and leading the others towards the stage where they lined the stage and looked to the girls.  
The girls on the stage where dressed up in bikinis of varying feminine colours and cleanliness. They looked down to the eight men in horror and slight confusion. They looked over the men, comparing them to their usual guests (slightly improved but only really in how wealthy they were. However, some of them were pretty good-looking.) and sighed.  
They looked to the Scout, Engineer and Demoman and gulped, looking to the eager looks in their eyes and feeling concerned. At least the Scout was cute, even if he was a giggling pile of something pathetic.  
The Heavy and Medic sat in the dead centre; the Medic looking to the stage with an air of scepticism about him and the Heavy desperately searching for food. Beside them was the Spy who read the magazine he brought in with him. The girls had all agreed via glances and giggles that the Spy was the most attractive out of all of them.   
Tall. Mysterious. Wealthy. Intelligent. French.   
How could they resist?  
Unfortunately for them, he was too interested in the contents of the magazine than the contents of their characters.  
To the furthest end of the stage, sat the Soldier. He simply stood still and glared at the girls through his helmet. He scared the girls more than the already drunk Demoman, mostly because Demo was happy and willing to cough up cash. The Soldier just sat there in silence, mumbling things to himself at odd moments.  
The Sniper leaned against the furthest corner from the stage and watched on. He looked over to the bar, possibly considering a drink of his own.   
Meanwhile, Pyro sat in the truck and played with a cigarette lighter whilst singing to himself.   
There was no movement at all. The girls stood in silence, still confused.  
Spy pried his eyes away from the magazine and looked up to the stage. He cocked a brow as he looked to the dancers; they were playing with their hair.  
“You…may proceed?” Spy said, softly.  
The girls started to dance and almost immediately, hundreds of dollars flew up into the air. There was laughter and screaming (most of which came from Demo) and soft giggles from the girls.  
The Heavy leaned into Medic’s ears. “Why so much money? They only just started.”  
The Medic sighed. “I have no idea.” The Medic glared at the three men making all the ruckus. “Imbiciles.” He muttered.  
The Heavy frowned, unimpressed by the dancing and stood up. “I am going to bar. You coming, doctor?”  
The Medic smiled softly. “No, no. I’ll be fine. You go.”  
The Heavy blinked as the doctor’s eyes were glued to the stage, unblinking. He waddled his way towards the bar until he saw her.  
A magnificent beauty, so fragile and pure yet graceful and elegant. She was beautiful; he had to have her. He didn’t even have time to question why a strip club would be handing out sandwiches.  
The Heavy followed the waitress with the platter of sandwiches closely, hardly leaving her alone. The waitress didn’t seem to mind, she even played little games with him as he trailed behind her.  
A cocktail waitress trekked over to the Sniper with the utmost caution.  
“Would you like a drink, sir?” She said, offering him the platter of cocktails.  
The Sniper grinned at her. “Aargh! Sure, why not?”  
He gently picked up a glass and nodded to her in thanks. The waitress left quickly before he could see her blush. The Sniper looked down at the glass and took a sip.  
“Bloody ‘ell!” He muttered. “That’s bloody good for a lady’s drink.”  
Meanwhile at the stage, the Demoman had attempted to climb the stage for the third time in the last five minutes. Already drunk and falling over himself, he stumbled up to the stage only to be playfully pushed back down by a dancer.   
Demo chuckled to himself as he fell back in his seat and fell asleep.  
The Engineer laughed and slapped his knee. He pulled out fifty dollars from his pocket and gestured to one of the girls. “Hey there, darlin’! Shall we dance?”  
The dancer looked to him with a deeply concerned expression across her face as she looked down to Engineer’s hand. She gently took his hand, looking to the club owner for guidance; she only rolled her eyes. Engie grabbed her hand and pulled himself onto the stage.  
The girls expression slowly softened as she began to barn dance with the Engineer; she even started to laugh.  
“You’re really good!” The Engineer chuckled, spinning her around.  
She laughed softly as she slowed herself down. “Thanks.”  
Engie tipped his hat to her and jumped down from the stage with a smug look on his face. The Demoman regained consciousness and mumbled something to the Engineer before the Heavy decided to drag the poor man to the bar.  
The Scout reached into his pockets and yelped when he realised that he had thrown all of his money at the girls who completely ignored him in favour of Spy. Scout bolted towards the Spy and shook his shoulders.  
“Spy! You gotta lend me some money. Please, I’m beggin’ here!” Scout begged.  
Spy’s eyes snapped to look at the Scout, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He closed the magazine and turned to face the Scout who was on his knees. He looked down to the young man with an unsettling grin.  
“You’re out of money?” The Spy said, holding back laughter. Beside him, the Medic watched on with an amused smile. “How could you be out of money, already?”  
“I’ve just been throwin’ it at ‘em. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” Scout whimpered.  
The Medic burst out laughing.  
The Spy bit his lips. “I suppose. Were they looking at you as you threw the money at them?”  
The Scout looked to the left with wide eyes. The Spy laughed at him.   
Spy reached into a pocket and pulled out five notes and gently lent them to Scout. The Scout began to laugh and snatched the money from him and kissed the bills.  
“Oh wow, Spy. I owe ya one!” Scout retorted.  
Spy lit a cigarette. “I know. Why don’t you watch some of the others before you throw your money around like a chimp!”  
The Medic leaned back into the conversation. “Here friend, I’ll show you.”  
The Scout and Spy watched carefully as the Medic stood up and waved three bills at one of the girls. She smiled down at him and stepped towards him and crouched down in front of him. Medic smiled softly and placed the money in her bikini bottom.  
She proceeded dance for him, twirling her hips, thrusting and rubbing her hands up and down her torso. The Medic watched her with a soft smile on his face. The girl leaned down to him and pulled at his tie and pulling him in closer. The Medic stayed perfectly still with a calm demeanour.  
“Thank you, dear.” The Medic whispered to her.  
She smiled softly and stepped back from him. The Medic turned to the Scout and grinned. The Scout squeaked softly and the Spy patted the young man’s head. The Medic sat back down and didn’t move. The Spy returned to his magazine and the Scout went back to his seat, slightly more frugal with his money.  
The Soldier jumped to his feet and threw his glass onto the stage, and bolted onto the stage. The girl’s screamed and ran away as he grew closer to them.  
“What in the hell?!” The Engineer shouted.  
The Soldier screamed loudly and began to thrust his hips wildly. “Let’s dance, punks!”  
The Demoman hollered at the Soldier and quickly joined him on the stage. With a laugh, the Scout also climbed onto the stage. The Heavy ran towards the stage and struggled to climb onto the stage with Sniper, Medic, the Engineer and his own body weight pulling him back as those on the stage began to drag him on.  
Spy continued to happily read his magazine.  
“Dumkoff!” Medic shouted. “What are you doing?!”  
“I want to dance!” Heavy whined. He kicked his feet as the Medic pulled off a shoe.  
“The bloody ‘ell you think you doin’, you wanker!” Sniper scolded. “You can’t do that, mate! Everyone, get down from there!”  
“Why ya gotta be such a stick in the mud?” Scout chuckled, pulling at Heavy’s left arm.  
“Stop it, you fools!” Spy shouted at the others. “You’ll get us kicked out!”  
There was a gunshot.  
The eight men looked around, dropping everything at once; even the Heavy. The club owner was holding a shotgun and glaring at the men. With the barrel of her gun she pointed to the door.  
“Out.” She barked. “Now!”  
All at once they sighed and dawdled towards the door. Scout, Demoman and Soldier were the first to leave followed by the Heavy. Medic, Engie and Sniper were next to leave the club. Spy stayed behind to talk to the owner.  
“Terribly sorry, madam.” Spy said to her. An air of distinguished grace about him. “I promise it will never happen again.”   
The club owner scoffed. “You’re fucking right it won’t happen again. Get out and never come back, you French fuck!”  
Spy cocked a brow at her. He sighed to himself and lit a cigarette, one of many that night and the last he had. “Very well then.” He replied with a blank expression. “I personally wouldn’t come back to see you or your mule-faced tramps when I can get more aroused at the slaughterhouse. You are wearing too much make-up and your club is of the poorest quality. Now would you kindly go fuck yourself because you look like you need a good fucking. Good day.”  
The owner went to punch the Spy but he cloaked himself before she could clasp her hand into a fist. She gasped as Spy left the building, completely invisible to her.  
Spy left the building in a huff and looked to the others, who look to him with helpless eyes. He smiled at them.  
Scout was crying, now completely broke. Soldier appeared embarrassed holding the drunken Demo over a shoulder. The Heavy looked down to the ground, disappointed and angry about the whole situation. The Medic, Engineer and Sniper seemed to be the only ones fully satisfied from their thirty minute romp in the strip club. (Though for a strip club, they did very little stripping. Perhaps they were unwilling to do so or the mercenaries would have payed nonetheless.)  
Yes, they were only in there for thirty minutes. It felt like hours.  
“At least we have our designated-” Spy began.  
He was abruptly cut short by the sight of the truck set alight, the Pyro dancing and laughing around the ex-vehicle.   
Spy looked to the fire with wide eyes, his cigarette slipped out of his mouth and hit the pavement with a loud thud. It could only be heard because the others were replicating Spy’s actions.  
“Mmrph mrrph mmrrrh mmmph!” Pyro chuckled to the others, pointing and laughing. “Mmrph mmmhp mrrh mmmph mmphh mmrrph mmmrph mmmph mmrph mmrrph mmrph mrrph mrpphh mmrph mmrh mmrh mrrph!”

**Author's Note:**

> I just found out that "Medic's Wife" is a thing that exists for some reason. I'm gonna write some of that shit right now because I would be in a relationship so hard with the Medic.
> 
> Also, I find that a lot of people write Sniper's dialogue in the sort of Crocodile Dundee dialect (Sniper's slang is pretty tame IMO and fun fact: he's actually from New Zealand so there's that...) But as an Australian I wouldn't write "i" for an Australian as "Oi".
> 
> I have no clue how the Spy would insult someone. I've hardly heard any taunts from him aside from "My hat is better". All I know is that he'll say "Fuck".
> 
> Also, look up my inspiration for this, it's freaking hilarious. Pretty sure it's called Fortress Strip Club. Kudos to the writer, it was so funny to me (even if that wasn't the intention) but I seriously hope the writer doesn't take any offense when I say that while the writing was pretty bad, the story was fantastic. (Really though, it's the funniest not-comedy I've ever read.)
> 
> I write more TF2 stuff. Working with these characters is pretty fun and I seriously hope I did them justice.
> 
> Also did I mention that I'd romance the shit out of the Medic. Like, date him so hard it'd blow his mind. Feel?


End file.
